Content warnings: [18+ nsfw] oral- r & dana receiving, fingering-r!receiving, facesitting- dana receiving, strapping- r & emily receiving, scissoring-emily & olivia receiving, lwk menancing switch!emily, softdom!olivia, softdom!dana, sub but not innocent!reader
Note: sorry for the wait guys! I don’t have an ao3/wattpad crazy-life-story excuse, I’m just lazy as hell, anywayssss, here you guys go :)
There was a certain hatred in your soul for fundraising galas- well, not when you said it like that. You loved fundraisers, especially when they were for important causes. It was why you took this job in the first place: Project Manager for the National Trauma-Care Agency. However, there had been an oversight regarding how involved you’d need to be in the actual fundraiser, and being involved where there were influential people seemed like a nightmare.
What was usually a to-do list of coordinating and ensuring the fundraiser ran the way it was supposed to from behind the scenes had turned into finding the right outfit, looking fancy enough to fit in, greeting guests, ensuring they had what they needed, and liaising with the representatives for each branch of involved personnel. You were starting to really hate the past version of yourself who had said, “Yes, of course, I’d love to be the one in charge of this fundraiser.”
There were a few trainee coordinators who would help with the fundraiser, especially with the guests. You were in charge of them too, and while you trusted the trainees, the one table you did not trust them with was the Honouree Table.
You stood in the empty gala room, looking at the place cards on the Honouree Table: FBI BAU Section Chief, Ms. Emily Prentiss; SVU Captain, Ms. Olivia Benson; PTMC Charge and SANE Nurse, Mrs. Dana Evans.
Yeah. Definitely not leaving this one to the trainees.
Emily Prentiss, Olivia Benson, and Dana Evans were the honourees of the fundraiser. When the fundraiser idea first came around, these women had been put forward to receive recognition for their work. Emily Prentiss for the Interagency Victim Protection Award. Olivia Benson for the Survivor Advocacy and Protection Award. Dana Evans for the Trauma Care Leadership Award. It was your job tonight to ensure everything ran smoothly for these women, which had stressed you out approximately three times every day.
The fundraiser went surprisingly smoothly. Awards were handed out, and Olivia, Emily, and Dana all seemed happy enough. Throughout the night, there were multiple instances that stayed lingering in your head: Emily’s “Thank you, angel,” when you handed over her award during the ceremony; Dana’s “You look lovely, hon,” when you had greeted them at their table; Olivia’s thank-you directed specifically at you during her speech; and the multiple times you were called to their table because they had one too many questions and conversations they said you should be a part of because Olivia had said, “You’ve done enough running around trying to keep us happy tonight. Take a break, sweetheart,” and Emily had pulled out a chair, and you were definitely not saying no to any of them. I mean, who would?
The fundraiser was coming to an end, guests slowly leaving and making their way home. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, the time reading 7 p.m., and below it, a text from Liam, your boyfriend of two months. “Can we cancel tonight? Got plans,” his text read. Of course. It was always him cancelling last minute, him having plans when you’d had plans scheduled weeks in advance.
Tonight, you were supposed to go out with him to a nice restaurant to celebrate, because being the event and project manager for this fundraiser had been a massive milestone, but of course, he didn’t care enough.
You felt agitation build up in your stomach as you dialled his number, walking towards the bathroom. It rang as you walked into a cubicle, then rang again for a minute longer before he picked up.
“You’re not serious, really? We had this date planned for two weeks, Liam. How do you suddenly have different plans?” you ranted, half-whispering, because you hadn’t checked if there was anyone else in the bathroom.
“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. Besides, we can go to breakfast tomorrow if this is such a big deal to you,” Liam said, sounding bored as he spoke into the phone. You could hear the rustle of bedsheets, making your heart drop a bit.
“Where are you right now?” you asked into the phone, your voice no longer really a whisper. Liam sighed before answering, “Oh, come on. Can you relax? It’s always you and your dramatics. This isn’t a big deal. I said we can do breakfast—” Before he could finish, a woman’s voice cut through the phone. “Liam? Who’s on the phone? Can you hurry up?” she asked, making your stomach sink.
“Fuck you,” you said into the phone, cutting Liam off when he tried to explain. “Fuck you, Liam. You’re an asshole, you know that?” you spoke angrily into the phone. “You’re a piece of shit. Go have breakfast with whoever is in your bed right now.” You hung up before he could say anything else.
“Stupid men. It’s always a man, every single time,” you muttered, frustrated, shoving your phone into your purse. “Spoiler alert to the new girl: he’s shit in bed, just like he’s shit at everything else too, useless piece of-,” you vented, cutting yourself off when a toilet flushed a few stalls down.
Right. Yeah. Public. We’re in public.
You tried to compose yourself as you unlocked the door, smoothing down your dress and taking a step out, only to be met with Olivia standing by the sink, washing her hands. You cleared your throat, walking up to the basin a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry if you heard any of that. It was totally unprofessional. I maybe should have checked that there weren’t any people in here first—” you rambled when the silence got too loud, because it was a habit you had never worked on.
Your eyes met Olivia’s in the mirror, her mouth quirking into a smile, making you sigh and look down at the sink as she walked to the towel dispenser. She didn’t say much, but the way she smiled said enough. “How much of that did you hear?” you asked sheepishly, looking at her with a tight smile.
“Enough to know whatever man you were talking to shouldn’t be your boyfriend,” Olivia said casually, drying her hands with the towel. “Also, I couldn’t miss the fact that you’re deeply unsatisfied in bed.”
“Oh my God, please forget you ever heard that,” you immediately muttered with a sigh, your cheeks heating up. Olivia only chuckled, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “You had plans with him tonight?” she asked.
You turned to look at her, feeling small under her gaze. “We were supposed to go to dinner and celebrate because this was a really big night for me, and he just cancelled because he’s in bed with another girl,” you blurted out, because you couldn’t not speak honestly when Olivia was staring you down.
“You could come celebrate with us,” she suggested casually, making you immediately object. “Oh no, no, I couldn’t do that—” you started, but Olivia interrupted your rambling. “You’re staying at the Magnolia Hotel, correct?” she asked, and you nodded. “Uh, yeah. Everyone is staying there tonight because it’s close and—” you said, before looking at her and noticing her amused smile, which made you stop rambling. “Right, yeah. You don’t need an explanation.”
Olivia gave a soft chuckle, pulling a card from her purse and scribbling on it before walking over and handing it to you. “Come over at nine, darling,” she said, her fingers brushing yours as you took the card and saw the hotel room number written on it. “Yeah, okay, cool. I will be there, promise,” you said, nervous but excited. Olivia nodded and gave you a smile as she walked out of the bathroom, her heels clicking down the hallway.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, card in hand, your stomach filled with butterflies.
Nine p.m., room 213.
No, you weren’t sure how things escalated, and no, you weren’t against any part of it. You were precisely where you wanted to be. You had come over at 9pm to room 213, had a glass of wine, felt Olivia’s lips on yours, and currently were on the middle of the hotel room bed, Emily was between your thighs. Her arms hooked over your thighs to keep you from squirming, which she realised you did a lot when you got overwhelmed with the attention.
The sight of Emily between your thighs, eyes looking up at you with a devilish glint, was enough to rob you of approximately ninety percent of your ability to think. Emily’s tongue licked broad stripes, prodding at your entrance for a few seconds before moving up to your clit, flicking over it fast until your moans broke in a specific pitched way that made her slow down deliberately.
“Oh, look at her.” Emily’s voice dragged you back into the room as she briefly pulled away, her amusement clear. Your eyes found Olivia’s, cheeks burning and chest heaving with heavy breaths as you shifted impatiently. Olivia was lying next to your lower body where Emily worked, propped on an elbow, her fingers moving to swipe some of your wetness from Emily’s lips and bringing her fingers to her own mouth, licking them clean.
You couldn’t help the needy moan that left your lips, bucking your hips up and tightening your fingers in Emily’s hair, wanting her to go back to her earlier ministrations.
Emily shifted her eyes from Olivia to yours, and that infuriating little smile returned. “That distracting, angel?”
Your face heated, with a small, playful shrug that came forth more sheepishly than you intended. “Maybe a little.”
Emily smirked, moving her kisses from your thigh to over your clit, sucking just enough to make you tremble and moan before she moved off again, nipping at your thighs. You could feel her smile against your thigh as you groaned, frustrated.
“Emily.” There was a warning in the single word, though Olivia’s mouth had curved faintly at one corner.
“What?” Emily asked innocently, shifting back just enough to rest her chin on your leg, looking at Olivia. “I’m making conversation.”
“You’re tormenting her—”
“I can multitask.” The two bickered, and you’d realised the two women did that often enough that you wondered if this was why they never had any work together.
From the armchair beside the bed came Dana’s unimpressed voice. “We’ve noticed.” Dana had been sitting in that chair for the majority of the night, nursing a glass of red wine in a silk nightgown.
Your head turned toward her. That had been a mistake too, because her attention was fixed on the three of you with an expression that was far too composed considering what was happening, and that turned you on more than you already were, and Emily didn’t do anything to help you.
Emily glanced toward her. “You planning on contributing at some point?”
Dana raised an eyebrow. “I was waiting for you to stop showing off.”
Your hand had moved from Emily’s hair to your own core, frustrated and needy and so desperate that you were willing to risk whatever implications it might have if you were to do your own thing instead of listening. Emily half-heartedly grabbed your hand before you got far, still focused on Dana. “I don’t show off.”
Olivia actually laughed at that, taking your hand from Emily and holding your wrists in her own hands to keep Emily’s free and yours away from touching.
Emily looked offended enough at Olivia laughing and disliked the fact that her own authority seemed undermined between Olivia and Dana, so she did the next best thing to keep Olivia from adding to the conversation and turned properly to kiss Olivia.
Emily’s hand settled against Olivia’s jaw while Olivia remained still for one heartbeat, two, before her hand caught Emily at the waist and pulled her closer. Whatever teasing victory Emily had expected disappeared rather quickly when Olivia took control of the kiss.
Dana sighed where she sat.
“Those two,” she muttered, getting up from where she was seated, moving towards the bed and taking a seat on the opposite side with her back against the headboard, patting the space between her legs.
You stared, looked back at Emily and Olivia—where Emily had completely moved from your legs to now straddling Olivia, the two of them deeply invested in their make-out. Emily’s hands twisted in Olivia’s hair, pulling to make Olivia groan.
Dana noticed and scooted to make space as you settled between her thighs, her own thigh moving over yours to keep your legs open and exposed to her hands.
“Don’t encourage them, hon,” she whispered by your ear as she kissed down the length of your neck.
You shivered and let out a pleased noise. Dana’s fingers found your heat, making a displeased tut at how Emily had played and left you.
“Please,” you begged so desperately when Dana’s fingers moved with purpose over your clit rather than Emily’s teasing manner from earlier.
Olivia pulled away from the kiss, both of them breathless. Emily’s eyes looked over to see you between Dana’s legs, her fingers moving in a practised manner over your clit, her other hand working over your breast as she kissed down your neck. Your moans filled the room.
“I was busy with her, Dana,” Emily complained, but was interrupted by Olivia, who pulled her down onto the bed, flipped them over, and straddled Emily where their cores touched. “For once in your life, can you keep your mouth shut,” Olivia rocked slowly at first, finding a rhythm as Emily moaned, throwing her head back, her hands finding Olivia’s hips.
Dana rolled her eyes at Emily’s remark, pulling her mouth away from your neck and moving the hand that was busy with your breast to your chin, turning your head to the side. “Look at them, sweet girl.”
You listened instantly because Dana’s authority could make you do anything. Plus, you were completely boneless as two of her fingers slipped inside you. You let out a desperate moan, your legs straining against hers instinctively. “Oh, God,” you moaned, but your eyes stayed on Emily and Olivia.
Emily made a delighted little noise, her half-lidded, pleasured gaze finding yours. “Oh, she listens to you,” she directed at Dana.
Dana gave her a flat look. “Unlike some people.” Her fingers worked until they found the spot she was looking for. “Right there, baby?” Dana asked beside your ear with genuine seriousness.
You nodded fervently, and Dana made a soft coo. “Alright, hon. I’ll stay right here, then.”
Emily piped up when she found her words again. “I listen,” she directed at Dana’s earlier comment.
Olivia tilted her head, her hips coming to a stop as she moved off Emily and flipped her around onto her hands and knees. “No, you wait until someone makes you.” Olivia said, getting up to reach the dresser, pulling out a thick purple strap and making quick work of putting it on.
Emily looked between them. “I’m beginning to feel attacked.”
“You’ll survive,” Dana said, smirking at Emily’s guttural moan as Olivia entered her, setting a steady pace that made Emily arch and fall forward onto her arms.
Then Dana’s attention returned to you, speeding her movements with purpose as your moans pitched. Your head tipped back, and she didn’t correct you, letting your body respond.
“You gonna cum for me?, hm?” Dana asked, and you nodded instantly, her thumb finding your clit with enough pressure and fast movement, coordinating well with her fingers’ movements inside you that kept repeatedly hitting that spot.
Dana nibbled and sucked at your neck below your ear. “Use you’re words, hon.”
“Yes,” you managed to whimper out, and the room at once seemed too much—Emily’s moaning, the wet sound of the strap thumping with each of Olivia’s thrusts, Dana’s fingers, her lips—a wave of pleasure washed over you all at once.
“There you go,” Dana whispered by your ear, continuing her movements with her fingers until your hand shot down to slow her down.
Emily caught your expression.
“Bet your boyfriend hasn’t done that to you in a while,” she murmured, her words broken between moans as Olivia continued, speeding up her movements.
“He’s a dick,” you muttered, looking at Emily with a playful smile, your chest still heaving breathlessly, your legs trembling and numb.
Emily laughed. “Could say that again—God, Olivia—fuck.” She moaned, clutching at the pillow below her, her legs threatening to give in at Olivia’s ministrations, but Olivia just grabbed her hips and held her up, one hand moving to thumb at Emily’s clit.
“C’mon, Em, cum for me—harder? Tell me what you need,” Olivia muttered breathlessly.
You couldn’t take your eyes off them, Dana’s hands soothing down your legs, her chin resting on your shoulder as she looked at Emily and Olivia.
It didn’t take long for Emily to come, her moans filling the room, Olivia soon after her as the two collapsed on the bed, Emily breathless and, for once, not having a comeback at the ready.
Olivia moved to prop herself up beside you and murmured, “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart? You still okay?” she asked, wiping a stray tear that you didn’t realise was there but must have happened earlier.
You turned toward her. “Yes.” It came out so quick your face heated. “I mean, yeah, yeah, this is very enjoyable. You guys are—good, yeah, really good at all this,” you rambled, embarrassed, feeling Dana’s chuckle rumble against your back.
Olivia’s thumb brushed beneath your chin. “Good.”
Olivia leaned in this time, kissing you slower, her lips softer than Dana’s and moving with more intent than Emily’s. You felt Dana shift out from behind you and heard, somewhere beside you, Emily make an irritated sound, assuming Dana had apparently decided she wasn’t finished with Emily.
When Olivia drew away, your eyes followed her automatically as she reached towards Dana, who handed her a clear strap-on smaller than the purple one.
Emily followed the movements happening above her back. “Do you ever stop? You just finished fucking me,” she said, looking at Olivia putting the clear strap on.
“Well, I think she deserves an award for being such a good girl. Might as well give her a chance to experience how good I am,” Olivia said.
Emily blinked and rolled her eyes, annoyed. You nearly laughed, and Dana actually did.
Emily stared at Olivia in exaggerated offence. “At least pretend to have some humility.”
“No,” Olivia said, pulling you down the bed with her arms hooked around your thighs, making you squeal in surprise and smile at Olivia as she leaned over you, your legs hooked over her hips.
“Unbelievable,” Emily muttered.
“You’ll live,” Olivia replied dryly, thrusting into you. You let out a surprised moan at how full you felt, your hands reaching down, not sure where to hold or touch. Olivia took your hands between hers, kissing your knuckles and moving them to her own breasts, which you took as silent instruction “thats it, there you go sweetheart.”
“There’s a remarkable amount of hostility in this room considering how naked everyone is,” Dana mumbled, moving to straddle Emily’s face, not allowing her a comeback as she sank down.
The room quickly filled with Dana’s restrained moans and your completely unrestrained ones. There wasn’t much that could keep you quiet with how Olivia was thrusting into you.
“Fuck—you’re doing good, sweetheart, really good. You’re taking me so well,” Olivia mumbled, moving your legs over her shoulders and leaning over you so she could capture your lips with hers, breaking away after a while when you turned your head sideways to look at Dana on Emily’s face.
Dana, beside you, noticed where you were looking.
“You like watching, baby?” Dana asked, rocking her hips against Emily. Emily tried to turn to look, but Dana only tangled her fingers in her hair, keeping her exactly where she was.
Your first instinct was to shake your head no, even though it was an entire lie.
“I—”
“You do,” Olivia said, deepening her thrusts before you could say anything else. Your mouth opened as moans spilled out. The room didn’t quiet, moans filling it so loudly that you worried about the neighbouring rooms. The worries left your mind when Dana’s moans pitched.
“Fuck—” Dana muttered as she came. It didn’t take long, her one hand clutching the headboard, Emily’s arms braced on her thighs, keeping her seated until it passed.
Dana’s moans pushed you closer to the edge. “Please, can I cum, please?” You looked up at Olivia, your legs shaking.
“Of course you can, sweetheart. C’mon, I got you—” Olivia sped up, deepening her thrusts, her fingers on your clit—hers more firm than Emily’s earlier teasing, the strap hitting the same spot Dana’s fingers did earlier, and it was enough to send you over the edge for the second time that night.
Olivia continued thrusting until your body came down, pulling out, her lips kissing yours to shush the small noise that left you.
You closed your eyes briefly, trying to catch your breath, a small chuckle leaving you as you turned your head to look at Emily and Dana. Dana had moved to put on her robe again, lighting a cigarette and giving you a wink when she caught your eyes. Emily moved closer to you on the bed, moving to straddle you.
“Haven’t finished my turn with you,” Emily muttered, kissing your lips.
You smirked against her lips, mumbling a playful, “They interrupted.”
Dana rolled her eyes playfully as Olivia moved to lie down on the bed next to them, her hand stroking through your hair as Emily’s mouth moved down again to what she had done at the start before Olivia grabbed her attention and Dana got to you.
“We have all night, angel,” Emily muttered before her lips connected with you again.
bring back sexting bring back sexting its the most hottest thing ever YES i will take my time to TYPE OUT EVERYTHING yes i will do exactly what you tell me to over text yes i am that easy and yes im giggling over a stupid box of words from you
pairing : alexandra cabot x femme! defence attorney! reader
synopsis : law school has taught you a few things.
Olivia’s new apartment still smelled faintly of fresh paint and lavender floor cleaner, a soft, inviting sanctuary tucked away from the grimy hustle of the city. Warm light spilled over the hardwood floors, and the cozy living room was packed with the rare, quiet warmth of the Special Victims Unit actually relaxing together.
You were curled comfortably on the end of the sofa, leaning back against Alex’s side. One of your hands was lazily draped over her knee, your polished nails gently catching on the fabric of her tailored trousers. In your silk blouse and tailored slacks, sipping neat bourbon from a crystal tumbler, you looked, as you always did, like you belonged on the cover of a luxury lifestyle magazine. Refined, immaculate, and utterly untouchable.
Across the room by the kitchen island, John Munch was waging a silent, desperate war.
He was holding a bottle of imported craft ale, his face twisted into a mask of deep concentration as he tried to twist off the cap. It wasn't a twist-off. The metal dug into his palm, producing nothing but a muffled curse and a slightly red hand. Undeterred, Munch scanned the counter, braced the lip of the bottle cap against the edge of Olivia’s brand-new granite countertop, and raised his hand to slam down on it.
"Munch, if you chip my counter, I will arrest you for felony destruction of property," Olivia warned without even looking up from where she was pouring glasses of wine with Fin.
"It’s a leverage issue, Liv! Archimedes said give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum, and I shall move the world," Munch grumbled, adjusting his glasses and trying to wedge the cap under the edge of a brass cabinet handle instead.
You let out a soft, elegant sigh, setting your bourbon glass down on the coffee table with a delicate clink.
"Give me that before you break her kitchen, John," you said smoothly, sliding off the sofa and walking over to the island.
Munch handed the bottle over with a skeptical scoff. "Oh, please. What are you going to do, sue it into submission?"
Without missing a beat, without dropping your polished posture, and without a single thread of hesitation, you brought the crown cap straight up to your back molars.
Clack. Pop.
With a quick, practiced flick of your jaw, the metal cap snapped off cleanly, flying through the air and landing with a tiny rattle right into the empty bowl on the counter. You casually handed the open beer back to a completely frozen Munch, stepping back toward Alex as if you had done nothing more dramatic than hand him a napkin.
The entire kitchen went dead silent.
Fin froze mid-pour, the wine bottle hovering an inch above Olivia’s glass. Olivia stared at you, her mouth slightly open, looking between you and the bottle in Munch's trembling hand as if you had just performed dark magic. Munch looked genuinely terrified, instinctively taking a half-step back from you.
Even Alex, who usually knew every single one of your hidden depths, was staring at you with wide, stunningly blue eyes, her glass halfway to her lips, entirely speechless.
"What?" you asked, leaning your hip against the arm of the sofa and picking your bourbon back up. You rolled your eyes at the wall of shocked expressions staring back at you. "I went to a top-tier law school. You spend four years surviving on cold pizza, cheap beer, and no bottle opener in a library basement, you learn a few practical life skills."
Fin let out a low, booming laugh, shaking his head as he finally finished pouring the wine. "Damn. Note to self: never get into a biting match with the defense bar."
"That was... remarkably barbaric for someone wearing a three-hundred-dollar silk shirt," Munch muttered, though he took a slow, appreciative sip of his beer anyway.
Alex recovered first. A slow, deeply fond, and slightly amused smile spread across her face, flushing her cheeks with a gorgeous pink warmth. She reached out, catching your wrist and pulling you back down onto the sofa next to her.
"Remind me never to cross you in court, counselor," Alex whispered near your ear, her breath warm against your skin as her hand rested possessively over yours. "Though I have to admit... it was ridiculously hot."
"Keep complimenting me, ADA Cabot," you smirked, taking a sip of your drink, "and I might just show you what else I learned in law school."
I learned in my political science class that all major famines in the 20th century and onward have been caused by oppressive groups or political situations restricting access to food, NOT natural causes like crop failure
This is literally the point that Indian economist Amartya Sen made that won him the Nobel prize in economics. As a child, he survived one of the several Bengal famines that were organised by the British colonisers in India. He developed his theory on famines, which is that they were more about distribution of food rather than production or availability of it
